"Don't you put your traveller's lies on me, sir." "Well, perhaps I dreamt it," said Tom, placidly; "I remember I dreamt at the same time that you were a grizzly bear, fourteen feet long, and wanted to eat me up: but you found me too tough about the hump ribs." Trebooze stared at his audacity.
"You're a rum hand." To which Tom made answer in the same elegant strain; and then began a regular word-battle of slang, in which Tom showed himself so really witty a proficient, that Mr.Trebooze laughed himself into good-humour, and ended by-- "I say, you're a good fellow, and I think you and I shall suit." Tom had his doubts, but did not express them.
"Come up this afternoon and see my child; Mrs.Trebooze thinks it's got swelled glands, or some such woman's nonsense.

Bother them, why can't they let the child alone, fussing and doctoring; and she will have you.

Heard of you from Mrs.Vavasour, I believe.

Our doctor and I have quarrelled, and she said, if I could get you, she'd sooner have you than that old rum-puncheon Heale.

And then, you'd better stop and take pot-luck, and we'll make a night of it." "I have to go round Lord Minchampstead's estates, and will take you on my way: but I'm afraid I shall be too dirty to have the pleasure of dining with Mrs.Trebooze coming back." "Mrs.Trebooze! She must take what I like; and what's good enough for me is good enough for her, I hope.